Bleed Out Your Sins
by It's Raining Snow
Summary: Duo takes out his rage on himself after a mission that went horribly wrong. Can anyone save him from himself and his darkness? Lang. Self-mutalation. Sorry I nixed the 4th chapter, I just felt it wasn't going to work to continue this story.
1. Bloodied

Angst-y little one shot. Just a little fictious battle that goes badly and the focus is on Duo. I feel like passing off some of my stress to someone else... And who better than a character I can manipulate, and they can be made to bleed.... and i don't have to go to the shrink for it... Don't like, please don't review. Like? (*is shocked*) then review. I'm just bored and can't really sleep so maybe I'll try at writing something. Eh... (I apologies for tense inconstancies, that's a big weakness of mine, and I tried to fix it as I noticed it.)

**I OWN NOTHING!! DON'T SUE ME... I HAVE NO MONIES. I don't even have enough for real Microsoft office (I'm using some generic knockoff that came with my laptop)... O.o**

**Character focus**: Duo Maxwell (no pairings)

**Warning:** Lang, Self mutilation, (if this is something that bothers you, I tell you now, it's in here.) Also why it's M. So don't get mad at me for writing it!

**Bleed Out Your Sins**

Duo sat silently in his cockpit, in the hanger. He'd returned from the mission with Heero and Trowa. Both had left their gundams in the hanger to be repaired and dealt with later. Even Perfect Soldier seemed a little shaken. Trowa, for all his reserved thoughtfulness, all his silent watching, and 'shot-em-up' fighting had seemed bothered.

Innocent people had died, and it was his fault. Neither of the other two had said anything, but it hung there between them. Duo didn't feel like leaving Death Scythe's comfort yet. 02 was cold and unquestioning. It didn't judge him, or tell Duo that the whole mission and been screwed up. Death Scythe was his silent partner in crime. And the cockpit was the one place Duo could allow himself a little retreat. He didn't have to go in and face the other pilots. Wufei, with his ever constant love and glorification of battle. Quatre's quiet damning of it. The perfect soldier's unshakable determination and resolve that the mission would either be completed, or come hell or high water, suicide was the back up. Trowa, well Duo wasn't really sure what Trowa thought of the war. Quatre would have a better grasp of what Trowa thought, since the two talked a fair amount, which was saying something considering how quiet Trowa normally was.

Even those he did not know died around him, either by his hand, or by his fault. He closed his eyes. They were bloodshot and tired. They burned with the tears he fought to hold back. He took in slow, meticulous breaths, trying to pull himself together. He would be no help to the other four pilots if he fell to pieces and lost it now. His stomach twisted in on itself. It felt as though his intestines had been filled with lead. _'Breath,' _was all the braided pilot could think. He couldn't.

He could hear the screaming in his mind, the cries of agony, pleas for death to come swiftly, for it to take another, not this person or that person's loved one. Death. He was the dubbed "God of Death" for a reason. He hated it. He never meant for there to be death. As long as he could remember, death had followed him, like a black cloud, a black plague, taking anyone and everything that meant anything to him. The panic, there was so much panic in him. It felt like it was going to consume him. His chest ached, it was so hard to catch his breath. It hurt, and his lungs screamed. The tremors started, and he couldn't stop them. He brought his knees up to his chest, so his heels were on the edge of his seat, and he curled up. One hand reached for the cross at his neck, the other wrapped around his legs, and pulled them closer. He closed his eyes tightly, even though all it did was bring the images further into focus in his mind. _'No,' _ Duo thought. He didn't want to think about this. He didn't. The images flashed through his mind:

"_Shit!!!" Duo cried. The damned mobile dolls were harder to fight for some reason than he thought. He yanked hard on the left control, throwing Death Scythe nearly horizontal in an effort to avoid getting blasted by the mobile dolls' cannon. His shoulder screamed with the effort. In a small window on his screen, he could see Heero's face, calm, almost as though he was just playing solitaire at his computer. 'Damn, does he ever get flustered,' Duo wondered briefly. In another window, he could see that Heavy Arm's pilot was stressed. Trowa's lips moved in a silent swear; Heavy Arm would be out of ammo soon. _

_This whole battle was going so horribly wrong. _

_They had been sent out to destroy a ship that was on its way to the colonies to deliver several thousand mobile dolls. It had been more of a stealth mission than anything. Get in, destroy, get out. They had gotten close, but had been noticed. The original plan had been to dock their hijacked ship on the big carrier, get the gundams out, then blast their way out, destroying it. Things hadn't gone that well. They'd been seen, and every single person of Oz had been told that the gundams were there. They were so fucked._

_Before the pilots could even try to put a little distance between them and the now alerted 'fleet' to give them space to get out, mobile dolls had been released. Many, many, mobile dolls. Some of the suits had actual flesh and blood pilots, but that was the minority. The three young pilots had scrambled to get into their gundams fast enough, to get in before the mobile dolls got to them. They just barely made it. Zero's cockpit had just closed as their ship was blasted, and the three exited straight into the fire._

_Heero was somewhere to Duo's far right, slashing, firing and blasting the mobile dolls. They didn't seem to cause him the slightest of troubles. Trowa was having more, with Heavy Arm having taken a damaging blow just escaping from the ship. Duo was somewhere in the middle. _

_Quickly he righted Death Scythe and charged forward, throwing everything he had at the doll, which promptly exploded as he blew past it, trying to get to the main Oz ship. He cut down as many of the damn dolls as he could. One after another exploded as he flew past and slashed. The ship... he was so close..._

"No." the word left his mouth. He had to stop thinking about this. It was too much. The tears he'd been fighting back fell at last. He started to rock, anything really, that would let out his pent up anxiety and left over adrenaline. He didn't want to do it, but his mind was there. There was no way out. He knew the others saw them, the scars. Knew the thought it was a bad idea. But there wasn't really anything the sixteen year old could do. He didn't know how to get all the terrible feelings out any other way. The deaths were all his fault. They always were.

Duo closed his eyes tighter, his hands in white-knuckled fists. He reached in his pocket for the pocket knife he knew was there. His hand tightened around it. He shouldn't. The straight, criss crossing scars were damning. And yet... the blood drew his attention away from the thoughts that were eating him alive. The faces of the dead, the bodies and the wreckage. His breathing quickened in anticipation. It would help. At least he made himself believe it would. Holding out his left forearm, he flicked the blade open with his right hand. He held the shining silver over his pale, already abused, scarred flesh. Holding his breath, he made a simple, slow, drag and watched the blood begin to bead up, following the line the sharp edge made. The endorphin release was no longer immediate. Hand trembling, but arm steady, he made a second, and a third line.

Nothing. He felt nothing. Gritting his teeth, the braided pilot made a fourth and fifth, allowing the blade to travel up his arm, criss-crossing the three previous lines. Nothing still. The self loathing built. He'd killed all those people. He'd made them die. And it was all his fault. The blade flashed with each movement. Slowly he began to feel calmer. Not much, but it was better than nothing. He watched the blood flow freely from his left arm now, dribbling down in little rivulets, red seeping over pale skin. He allowed himself to become entranced by it, the blade now still. His anxious breathing slowed slightly. Deftly he switched the blade to his left hand, holding his right arm out now. He dully noticed that the lines on the right never seemed as straight, or as deep as the ones on the left. In slow, deliberate motions the blade cut across soft skin, peeling through the layers, his left hand trembling just the tiniest bit. He exhaled and pressed. His eyes closed involuntarily, and he sighed again.

_'Why do I always feel better after making myself bleed,' _He wondered.He allowed the thought to remain in his head for just a moment, before pushing it away. There was no point dwelling on it. He done it so many times, when the blade came out the mantra in his head began to play. He allowed the small voice in his head to tell him it was his fault, tell him the other pilots only tolerated him because of the facade he put on around them. He wasn't as good as them. He was only the comic relief. None of them really cared. They just wanted to survive the mission and get on to the next. And the next. He was the prankster, the one who could break his nose one moment and laugh about it the next.

He pressed harder, willing more blood to come out, to ease his pain, his uselessness. He wanted to hurt. He deserved to hurt. It was his fault they'd slammed into a colony. His fault they'd nearly gotten killed. It was his fault people had died..

_He had gotten next to the ship. Hell, he knocked on the fucking door. He slammed Death Scythe into it, knowing that if he could take out the ship, and the controller, the billion little mobile dolls that were after them would fizzle out. Then Heero and Trowa would be okay. He slashed with Death Scythe's scythe and explosions began._

_What he didn't realize is that they had gotten right up next to one of the colonies. He didn't hear Heero yelling that hitting the ship from this side would slam it into the colony. His heart pounded in his ears, adrenaline shoved its way through his veins, his shoulders screamed and his back ached. He didn't hear Heero. He didn't hear until he'd already made the movements. He just didn't hear him. _

_And then it was too late. The ship's right side slammed full speed into the colony. The screeching and screaming of metal was horrible. The metal twisted and broke. The ship's wing punched a hole right through the side of the colony. Buildings shattered. A fire started almost immediately. The whole ship was beginning to implode. He'd just killed a colony. Trowa and Heero screamed at him. He was frozen. _

_It had been Trowa and Heavy Arm who'd come and grabbed hold of Death Scythe, dragging it away from the impending explosion. Duo had seized up. He couldn't even move his own gundam. He'd just killed a colony. What had he done?_

Sobs racked Duo's body. He pressed the blade harder. What right did he have to this blood that coursed through his veins? What right did he have to live? He'd murdered so many people. He didn't hear the soft knock on his cockpit door. Nor, did he hear it open. He just simply sat there, and let himself fall to pieces, blood streamed down both arms, tears streamed down his cheeks. The light that streamed into the cockpit made him realize the door was open. His eyes snapped up, the blade hovering over his arm, as it waited to make another cut, to make more blood run, to absolve him of his sins.

Heero stood there, eyes widened. He'd never seen Duo in the act. It was a sickening sight. The American pilot shook, blood streamed from both his arms, pooled slightly on the floor of the cockpit. His breathing was ragged and his face was tear stained, eyes red. They'd all seen the scars. They all dealt with the rage and shame and fear differently. Heero just simply locked it up. He turned his emotions off. This was Duo's way of dealing. It always had been.

Quietly, Heero stepped forward, and took the bloodied blade from Duo. Duo said nothing, just allowed the knife to be taken. He sat still watching Heero. Heero promptly dropped the knife and crouched down so he was eye level with Duo.

"You can only punish yourself so much. Shit happens. Mistakes happen. This happened to be more spectacular, but it happened," Heero said softly. Duo averted his eyes, letting them settle on the dripping blood. Heero sighed. "We all screw up, but you can't let it kill you Duo," Heero again looked at the American who was studiously trying to avoid his eyes. Duo exhaled heavily and slowly stood. "Let's get your arms wrapped," was all Heero said as he turned to exit the cockpit. He would come back and clean it up later, perhaps while Duo was asleep. The others need not know how screwed up Duo truly was over this. Stoically Duo followed, feeling like maybe he did have a friend after all.

**um.. Please Review? (even if it's just to say 'good' or 'sucked') It was written at like 4 am...... I give cookies to anyone who loves me enough to review.... Second fan fic done! 6 years later... Constructive criticism welcome. Criticism with no point, don't bother.**


	2. Missing

Wow. I feel awesome with the kind reviews :) You guys really made my day(s). SO! I'll try to give you more. I don't know how this will go though, so I'll try. (so far I haven't decided on a plot, and I'm not sure I'll be able to come up with one on my own O.o Also, I'm on spring break right now, so I'm able to write at night when the mood hits [i.e. 2 am like now], but once this is over, the updates will not be several in week, maybe one a week or every other week. Depends on my crazy life (see my profile, and courses this year...) SO ***feel free to pitch me plots/ideas, PM me if you want or put it in review***) Thanks! Please Review! It makes me feel happy and **reviews + happy = more....**

Same **disclaimer** as before, see **chap. 1**, & same warnings apply as before.

**Bleed Out Your Sins**

Chap. 2: Missing

Heero walked back to the hanger, back to the blood, back to the feelings of shock at finding Duo like a zombie. He entered Deathscythe's cockpit and began to clean the bloodied mess. The American pilot had yet to say anything. He'd followed Heero without a word to the work station in the hanger. Heero had used the medical kit there to wrap up Duo's mutilated arms. Several of the wounds had needed stitches as well. Duo had sat passively through it, not speaking a word, or making any sound through the whole thing. He'd also continued to avoid Heero's gaze. From there, with Duo no longer oozing blood everywhere, they'd walked back, trudging up the stairs from the hanger to the rest of the house. Duo had headed straight to the bathroom, to wash off the oil, dirt and grim that covered him.

Whilst Duo showered, Heero had slipped into Duo's room, unnoticed, to remove the knives from his room. The dead look in Duo eyes was disturbing. Enough so, that Heero had taken ever knife, and double checked to make sure he'd not missed one of any size. Heero had a very strong feeling that Duo would attempt to do more damage to himself, should he be left alone with them. While Heero normally would never have done such a thing, this time it called for it. Duo was crashing too hard. When he was no longer such a danger to himself, Heero would give the American all of his many blades back. He took them back to his room, and set them in the bottom drawer of his dresser.

Sitting down on the comfortable bed, Heero reached over and grabbed the laptop off his dresser. Time to file the mission report. He sighed. This wasn't going to be fun to relive through the writing. At least he didn't have to mention Duo's mental state in the report.

*******

Duo had been surprised at the gentleness Heero showed him when stitching and wrapping his arms. He'd also been surprised with how understanding Heero was. He'd expected to be berated by the Perfect Soldier, yet not an angry word or accusation had left his mouth. After all, Heero rarely messed up a mission, and when he did, it was never to this extent. He sighed; he'd never figure Heero out.

Duo walked into the bathroom and closed the door. It was enormous. Not that shocking though, considering it was one of Quatre's safe houses. The safe houses had their own hangers, below the actual house. He shook his head. He'd never have wealth like that; to have so many safe houses that they were simply everywhere, unused. The house itself was spacious, with each pilot having they're own bedroom. There were three floors, not counting the hanger, and each had a large, luxurious full bathroom. The main floor consisted of an ungodly large kitchen, entertainment room, dining room, and library. Duo's room was on the second floor. Heero's was as well. Quatre's was on the top along with Wufei and Trowa.

The house was settled out in the woods, in the middle of nowhere, on Earth. The nearest town was nearly an hour away by car. The entrance to the hanger was in a large field to the north of the house, nearly a mile out, where the ground opened up with the pass code. When they'd first arrived, they'd had trouble even finding the damn thing. Quatre had to come over the video screen to tell them where it was and what the code was. Duo sighed, '_And to think, this was just a safe house!'_ He wondered what Quatre's real home looked like.

Slowly he stripped off his black shirt. His shoulder and ribs screamed in protest at the movement. Duo stepped back, in order to see his chest properly. An angry purple and black bruise was forming on his left shoulder, spreading from the joint part way down his upper arm, to the top of his collar bone. Another large bruise went across his ribs on the left. His right side seemed to have faired somewhat better. There were only speckles of black and purple here and there. He winced as he bent over to unlace his shoes which he kicked off into the corner with then now discarded shirt. His back ached. There were probably pretty bruises there too. He began to unbuckle his belt and remove his pants and boxers. _'Damn,' _he thought. His hip hadn't escaped bruising either. His legs were okay, with only small scrapes and bumps. Those would heal fast, and the bruises would discolor and disappear in several days.

He was dead tired, and felt as if it was impossible for him to feel any more emotions. That was okay though. Numb didn't hurt. He grabbed the end of his braid, pulled the tie off, and it slowly unraveled as he ran his fingers through it. Stepping into the shower he turned it on full blast, as hot as it would go. He closed his eyes as simply stood there letting the scalding heat wash over him, wash the death and shame off of him. As he reached for the soap, he blinked. He'd forgotten to unwrap his arms. Oh well, he'd deal with it when he got out.

*******

Fluffy towel around his waist, long hair re-braided, and fresh, dry bandages around his arms, Duo stealthy slipped into his room. He was grateful Trowa was upstairs, so he didn't have to bump into the green-eyed pilot. The rooms were large like the rest of the house. He dropped his gross clothes in the corner of the room, shutting the door with his foot. He was so tired. The crash from his anxiety and adrenaline was horrific. Sleep was the only thing on his mind. He didn't even care enough to put clothes on. He just simply walked over to the bed, yanked the covers back, and crawled in pulling the covers back up. He lay stretched out at first, too sore to find a comfortable position.

He tossed and turned. No matter how he lay, he lay on something that hurt. Every bit of him seemed to hurt. It was like he'd been hit by a train. He felt pummeled, physically and mentally.

Sleep refused to come. He shifted to his back, eyes closed and sighed. All he wanted was sleep. Was that too much to ask? It was. Behind closed eyes the mantra began to play again. Over and over it ran through his head. He crumpled up into a ball on his side, hands clutching his hair. Sleep. All he wanted was sleep, dammit. _It was his fault. It would always be his fault._ It all played out again and again and again like a broken tape, only one that couldn't be ripped from the player and fixed. Like a movie behind closed lids. It was too much. The thoughts were too much.

He sat up in the bed, and reached over to the night stand for one of his knives that he kept in there. His hand felt around blindly in the dark drawer. _'Where is the damn thing?' _Hissing obscenities under his breath, he flipped the light on, his exhausted pupils not wanting to adapt to the sudden blinding light. He leaned over. The knife wasn't in there. '_What the fuck?'_ No one ever came into his room, it was sort of an unspoken rule between the pilots. You never invade someone's private space without permission, but someone had. Anger flashed through him. He got up and walked over to the dresser. The normal array of blades up there was gone, nothing else bothered, just the knives. Duo yanked the top drawer open, and swore. They were gone from there too. His other miscellaneous weapons were there, just not any of his knives. He cursed again. Heero.

*******

Heero groaned as he stretched. He was tired. His legs were beginning to tingle and go to sleep from siting on his sciatic nerve so long. The stress from the mission and from Duo's state was getting to him. He glanced at the clock, 4:15 am. He sighed and shut the laptop. His eyes were tired of staring at the empty screen. He hadn't been able to come up with anything after: 'The mission went very badly'. That was it. That one sentence summed up the whole cluster-fuck that it had been. A tired hand rubbed more tired eyes. J could just deal with it. This report wouldn't get to him in a "timely fashion," meaning the second Heero stepped out of the cockpit. He didn't care, for once.

Duo was on his mind. He was troubled by how uncaring Duo had been when he'd been found for one thing, and stitched up for another. He seemed as if he'd simply died inside. His silence was slightly unnerving as well. Even at the worst of times Duo had found some sort of dumb or funny thing to say to lighten the mood slightly. Then again, nothing like this had ever happened before. At least not on a mission. Duo had lost so many people, and this just seemed to be the breaking point. They all had one, and unfortunately Duo had found his first.

It didn't seem fair to Heero. Duo tried so hard to make people happy, to make them feel better and to be fair. And yet life dealt him bad hand after bad hand. No wonder he'd finally snapped. One can only take so much death and destruction. Heero vaguely wondered where his breaking point would be as he flicked the light off and lay down. Sleep came swiftly to him, and mercifully, without dreams.

*******

Duo stood outside Heero's door in a long sleeved t-shirt and shorts, unsure as to whether he really did want his knives back or not. The lights were off in the whole house, so he stood completely hidden in the darkness. Not that he needed any more darkness around him to begin with. He raised his had to knock, and simply held it there, hovering in front of the door. There was no light from under the door. He let his arm drop.

Hesitantly he touched to doorknob. It was cold under his hand. Years of thievery would pay off, hopefully. Then again, this was Heero, Mr. Super Soldier. Duo wasn't sure he could get in, find his knives, and get out without waking said soldier. _'Shit,'_ was all that he could think. If he went now to get them, he knew he'd slash his arms up again from the storm that was raging inside of him. If he waited... He'd never get to sleep, at least not tonight. But how many sleepless nights had he already had? Would one more make that much of a difference? There wasn't even that much time left for him to sleep before he'd be expected to get up and report in. He rested his head against the door, completely undecided on what to do.

Out of principle he wanted his knives back or so he told himself. Heero had no right to take them away, did he? _'Maybe he did. Maybe he does think of me as a friend,'_ You kept your friends from doing dumb things right? Indecision ripped at him. His fingers twitched on the knob. Did he really want to face Heero right now? '_If he's asleep, I don't have to face him. But the likely-hood of him staying asleep as I root around through his room...' _His fingers made the decision for him, by turning the knob. He was getting them back dammit.

Duo stepped into the pitch black room, daring Heero to wake up and try to stop him. He was going to get them back dammit, whether Heero liked it or not.

**PLEASE REVIEW **

**THEY MAKE ME FEEL GOOD!! and they make me feel like my writing doesn't suck, :p so you get more of it. So, that's all for now I guess... It's 5:19 am and I'm tired and wanna sleep. Oh, one more thing! Thank you for those who have already reviewed. It means a lot. Feel free to toss ideas at me like I said. Thanks.**


	3. Bled Enough

**Yay. I feel special. Your reviews are wonderful!**So my horse is doing some better, (see profile note) and I'm not worried I'm going to have to euthanize him any more so I am going to try to write more. This chapter is giving me major issues, I've been fighting with it for days. I'm having trouble with the dialog... that's just the easiest place to throw someone out of character. Hmmm. And this stupid generic 'word' and I are having *issues* with my [slight] dyslexia... damn cheap spell check .

**Disclaimer in Chapter 1, same warnings as before.**

**Bleed Out Your Sins**

Chapter 3: Bled Enough

Trowa twitched in his sleep. Or lack of. He was exhausted. It seemed that everything that could have gone wrong on this mission, with the exception of them getting killed, had. They'd destroyed a colony. A minor, not very populated one albeit, but it was a colony none-the-less. He sighed heavily, and rolled onto his back. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the explosion that had nearly killed Duo and himself. Duo had been so shocked he hadn't been able to even move away. So Trowa went as he always seemed to do, and saved him. Maybe Duo hadn't wanted to be saved. The look in his eyes over the vidscreen had been horrifying. Duo had always been an advocate for the colonies and yet he had destroyed one.

Trowa ran a hand through his long bangs. '_It was an accident. Duo's got to be beating himself up. Maybe I should talk to him tomorrow... or should I leave him be? I don't know. I hope he doesn't hurt himself to badly...' _The thoughts of the braided teen swam in his head. He ran through the whole incident over and over, and yet he didn't see how it could _not_have happened. There was truly no other way for Duo to destroy the ship without it hitting the colony. None of them could have done it with out hitting the colony. He decided he did need to tell Duo that tomorrow. Maybe it would help alleviate some of his guilt. Trowa groaned and shifted again. He wondered when Quatre and Wufei would be back. He wanted Quatre's thoughts before he tried to talk to Duo.

*******

Duo stepped into the pitch black room, daring Heero to wake up and try to stop him. He would get them back dammit, whether Heero liked it or not. _'Now, where would he hide them? Under the mattress maybe... so I'd have to wake him up? In the closet? Or maybe the dresser?'_Duo pondered as he waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. He'd already closed the door behind him. He hoped Heero wouldn't wake up. He really didn't want to deal with that on top of everything else. He listened hard. Heero's breathing was slow and relaxed, he appeared to be asleep as far as Duo could tell. Then again, this was Perfect Soldier, the one who was able to fool Sally Po into thinking he was still unconscious when he was very much awake._ 'But if he's awake, will he stop me?'_Duo wasn't so sure on that one. He hoped, if Heero was actually awake, that he'd just let Duo take them and leave; but since he took them in the first place, Duo wasn't so sure.

He took one slow step, his eyes now adjusted fully to the familiar darkness. They flicked over to Heero, who was sprawled out spread-eagle on the bed, mouth slightly agape. Duo smirked. One would never guess from this sleeping form that the best of the Gundam pilots slept like that. Silently he tiptoed across the room. He stood between the closet and the dresser. Which to check first? If he opened one, and made a racket, he was likely to get shot, which _would_put him out of his misery, but wasn't what he was aiming for. He needed to think. Would Heero put them in the same place he kept them? Probably not. He scanned the tops of the dresser and bedside table, but didn't see anything. He hadn't expected to. He doubted Heero would just keep them in plain sight. _'Shit,'_ was all Duo could think. _'Well, I might as well try something.'_ He walked over to the dresser making sure he kept a close eye on the slumbering soldier.

He crouched to pull a drawer open and suddenly gasped at the shooting pain that traveled up his leg and through his ribs at the movement. He glanced over to Heero, and hoped that he was still asleep. No such luck. The now very awake Heero stared at him. _'Oh Shit.'_

*******

Heero wasn't terribly surprised when he heard the door open and awoke. Through barely open eyes he saw the American enter stealthily, careful to close the door without a sound. He watched as Duo stood there, deliberating on whether he really wanted to do this or not. Apparently he did. He allowed him to get as close to the dresser as he could. Then he heard Duo's gasp of pain. He wasn't getting those knives back tonight.

"You alright?" He asked softly. He wasn't sure how Duo would react to him. He hoped it wouldn't be to badly. Maybe Duo would talk. Heero hoped he would. "You're not as sneaky as you think." he waited. _'Please just say something Duo, I'm not going to kill you.'_ Very slowly Duo stood up and turned, and leaned against the dresser he had been intending to ransack.

"I am too just as sneaky. You just happen to be Mr. Perfect Soldier," Was the only reply Heero got. He didn't fail to notice that Duo skipped over the question. Heero sighed. "So when did you feel the need to steal all of my knives? I thought you, of all of us, would understand the 'breakin' and enterin' concept." Duo did his best to keep his voice light and relaxed, joking even. Him, get caught trying to steal something [back]? Never!

"Duo, just leave them for now. You've done enough damage to yourself, and I'm not going to let you do more. Haven't you bled enough for one night?" Duo just simply sighed.

*******

He hadn't expected to have Heero wake up on him. He'd hoped at least. _'Someone up there just has a ball watching me squirm,'_ he thought. Now came the interrogation. Joy.

"Can't you just give 'em back and leave me be?" Now more than ever he wanted to feel the weight of his knife in his hand. He didn't want to deal with this. He didn't want to deal with Heero. He just wanted to go back to his room, make himself feel better and curl up to sleep.

"No, you truly have done enough damage. You just need to rest and you need to heal. Stop dwelling on this. It was an _accident._" Heero kept his voice soft, yet still somewhat commanding.

_'Damn him. Damn him to the ninth level of Hell.' _Duo desperately wanted to just say "_But they're mine!" _but even as pissed as he was, he knew that sounded childish. He kept his cool facade in place. "Oh come on Heero. I'm not gonna do anythin', I just want 'em back." _'He rolled his eyes at me. Prick.'_

"I'm not giving them back to you tonight Duo, you're a wreck. I don't think you've ever cut yourself deep enough to need stitches, before tonight. You're angry and upset and definitely not 'together' enough to have them back. I... I don't like it that you always take everything out on yourself. Somethings just happen. Not everything thing is your fault." Heero heard Duo's jaw snap shut. Duo looked away; whether it was from shame, Heero wasn't sure. Duo sighed again.

Heero watched him closely. He could see Duo's shaking hands, his bowed head, even the way he trembled slightly in the nearly nonexistent light. He watched as Duo slowly slid down the front of the dresser to the ground, and it seemed as if his exhausted body just couldn't take any more. Duo pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on them. Duo didn't seem to notice as Heero quietly got up from the bed, sat down next to him on the soft carpet, and leaned back against the dresser. Heero couldn't quite tell whether Duo was crying or just struggling to keep himself together.

Heero closed his eyes, he didn't know what to do. He hated to see a fellow pilot in such distress, yet what could he do? Giving the blasted knives back would only make it worse wouldn't it? He could feel Duo trembling beside him. "Duo?" Heero asked softly. The braided youth said nothing. "You have to pull it together. We have missions still, and if you're to screwed up about this one, we're suddenly down a pilot, and a damned good one at that. We need you. You can't let this ruin you."

*******

"I... it... it was my fault." Duo choked out. He throat felt like it had a lump in it. He closed his eyes tightly, and tried to take a deep breath. Everything inside him began to fall apart. He was losing it. The mantra started. He could hear Heero's yell at him to watch out, about what was going to happen. It was loud and clear in his head now. How could he have been so stupid? His breath hitched as he desperately tried to get control. "Give them back _now _Heero. I... I... need it." His voice was gravely with emotions he was trying to suppress.

Duo heard everything Heero said. He was trying to pull it together. Heero didn't have a cloud of death following him everywhere he went though. He doubted the Perfect Soldier even knew what it felt like to be the cause of something massively bad. There was a reason Duo was Shinigami. Everyone around him died; Sister Helen, Father Maxwell, Solo, that colony. It would only be a matter of time before another catastrophe found him. The others didn't know about his past, or even why he called himself Shinigami. They'd never asked. He was just the jester to them, just the moral raiser at the beginning of battle. None of them had ever questioned the scars, nor even acknowledged them for that matter before tonight. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying, trying to pull it together. Heero was still next to him. Duo wondered what Heero even thought of him. He was probably just trying to get Duo to pull it together for the next mission, wasn't he?

His mind swam. He wanted to bleed, dammit. He just wanted everything to go away for a little while. To just not have to deal with anything, his thoughts included. He didn't know why the blood let his mind go, it just did. It made everything numb. He didn't have to feel all the rage and shame, the feelings of failure, or even the physical pain he was in from all the injuries. It was so consuming, the blood. He truly just felt numb with it. And now, everything he'd managed to shut out earlier raged through him, making it's presence known, letting him know just what a fuck up he really was. What was he supposed to do, just pretend nothing happened, that he was un-phased like always? He felt Heero sigh next to him, bringing him out of his mind consuming guilt.

Heero's voice was soft, and somewhat soothing as he spoke, something Duo wouldn't have expected from the Perfect Soldier.

"We all value you Duo, and we all see you as our friend, and well..." Heero paused, trying to gather his thoughts. Dealing with others' emotions wasn't his strongest quality. "I... We wish you wouldn't beat yourself up so badly. Shit really does happen sometimes, to all of us, and I'm sorry this was your mistake, but it was an accident. There's nothing that can be done about it now, so dwelling isn't going to help you, neither is injuring yourself so much on top of what has already been done." Heero wished Duo would believe him. Shinigami beat himself up to much.

Duo raised his head, and sighed heavily. He was tired, every bit of him hurt, felt like it had been pummeled. "I think I'm going to go back to bed Heero." Duo stood up, his legs aching from even the smallest movements he made. Heero stood with him. Duo looked up for a moment and caught his eye, and gave a weak, but genuine smile.

"If you need to talk," Heero paused briefly before barreling onward. "I'll listen."

Duo nodded and walked over to the door, fingers hovering over the knob. Almost to soft to hear, Duo replied, "Thank you," and then he was gone, door closed behind him, and left Heero to stand in the darkness, and wonder about his friend. Hopefully Duo wouldn't do anything drastic tonight. Heero crawled back into bed, as the morning light began to show through the darkness.

**Ok! Done with this chapter. I still have no idea where I'm going with this, just sort of writing as it comes to me. **

**Btw, the 'ninth level of hell' reference was from Dante's Inferno, the ninth level is for traitors. Hmmm... It also seems that for some reason this openoffice thing won't save my final set of corrections before I put it up... SO if there are mistakes it's not because I don't look over it... it just doesn't get saved and it's pissing me off.**

**R&R please!**


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